Third Wheel
by EpicInTheLibrary
Summary: Stan is playing a game of keep-away, and Kenny doesn't know how much longer he can take it. Kenny/Kyle, Stan/Kyle
1. 00 01

**.0.**

Kenny has always been a little jealous of Kyle and Stan. They just always seemed to know exactly what the other was thinking, what they were going to do. Their bond was so strong, nothing could break it. It was a friendship sealed in steel. Stan and Kyle had something special indeed.

As Kenny payed more and more attention to the two, he started to notice Kyle differently than before. He regarded him with admiration and always enjoyed his company. His liking for the boy strengthened and grew until he realized he had an attraction to Kyle. He held feelings for his friend he knew he wasn't supposed to have.

Of course, at first this was a very big deal to him; discovering forbidden attractions is naturally new and alarming. But he learned to grow accustomed to the attraction, and he soon accepted it. Every day when he saw Kyle he felt his face go warm, especially when Kyle talked to him. He tried his best to keep his secret feelings remained hidden, to act as naturally around him as he did with the others. And as far as he knew, he was doing a good job. At least if anyone knew, they weren't telling. So life was pretty good for Kenny McCormick.

Yes, everything was just fine, up until the day Stan confronted him in the school hallway just after second period.

**.1.**

Lately Stan has been distancing himself from Kenny, for whatever reason. Kenny hasn't really thought much of it; he's been too busy paying attention to Kyle. But apparently it's not an option to ignore Stan this time.

Stan's expression is one Kenny can't exactly read, which confuses him. Usually he's good at reading people, but for some reason this time he just can't tell what Stan is thinking.

Stan narrows his eyes at Kenny, and the confusion flooding Kenny's mind intensifies and brings up a subtle unease. Is he being_ hostile?_ Why?

"I know about your feelings for Kyle," he states simply, staring deep into Kenny's eyes, as if he can see every suddenly panicked thought running through his mind. Kenny's body seizes up and his heart stops for a moment. He stares fearfully back into Stan's narrowed gaze, unable to bring himself to look away, afraid of what the other boy's motives might be. Even though he knows it's pointless and futile, he forces an incomprehensive smile to surface from his dry lips and shakes his head slowly in a smooth gesture of blank stupor.

"Wh--I--I don't know what you're talking about," he attempts pathetically, heart sinking dreadfully. He's lying so obviously through his teeth, and Stan can easily see it as blatantly as a neon flashing sign. The other gives him an unimpressed look that says he sees right through Kenny's pitiful attempt and he shakes his head in disdain.

"Seriously?" he ridicules, tilting his head mockingly to one side. His voice drips sarcasm and overflows with superior malice. Kenny can feel his suddenly frail body shaking and he nervously swallows the knotted mass of anxiety forming in his throat, blocking his airways and preventing him access to oxygen. He finds his dry voice and forces it to bubble up past his sticky trachea.

"Y-You won't tell, will you?" he pleads desperately, his eyes wide with fear. He _knows_ Stan, they're_ friends,_ they've known each other their whole_ lives;_ of course he won't do that to a life friend, right?

"Relax," Stan tells him calmly. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

"You won't tell Kyle?"

"No, I won't tell Kyle."

Kenny feels his body relax, the tension in his muscles releasing gratifyingly. He exhales and closes his eyes momentarily, trying to calm his racing, panicked heartbeat. His eyelids flicker open again when Stan's voice reaches his ears as he resumes speaking.

"I just want to warn you." He says it lightly, as if it is a trivial thing of small talk, such as the weather or the homework. Kenny regards him with confusion, noticing his expression darken in the slightest bit. Fear rises in his heart as the message of the sight hits his brain; he can read a threat when he sees one.

"Warn me about what?" he asks quietly, hesitantly, almost not wanting an answer. He can't help the slight wobble in his voice. Stan watches him with an unblinking gaze, dark and serious.

"Do not try to get close to Kyle." Kenny's mouth runs dry and his erratic heartbeat fails. "Don't even try. If you want to stay friends with him at all, you will not try to get any closer to him." Stan's voice is low and monotonous, reminding Kenny of a hypnotist, like he's trying to get Kenny under a spell that would ensure his unquestionable cooperative obedience. The thought sends chills running down his spine, making the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably. There's a fearful lump in his throat.

"Wh-why-"

"Just don't," Stan interrupts threateningly, cutting off Kenny's stuttering incomprehension. Kenny is stunned. Why is Stan acting so hostilely toward him all of a sudden? Is he just being possessive because Kyle's his best friend? Or is it something else..?

Realization hits Kenny like a gust of wind and his eyes widen in shocked understanding.

"You _like_ Kyle, don't you?" Stan regards him with distaste, eyes cold and calculating- calculating what?- but then he smirks, eyebrows raising ever so slightly in superiority.

"At least I have an advantage; Kyle actually _likes_ me." With that he turns and strides away, leaving Kenny standing alone in the crowded hallway staring after him. He's speechless, his mind in an unproductive stupor. He feels as if he's in a dream, like what has just happened was just an illusion. Stan hasn't just threatened him, hasn't just ruined any plans he'd had on trying to become closer to Kyle. But it _was_ real.

He knows Stan's right; he _has_ noticed Kyle's recent subtle affection for his best friend. And now because of Stan, that's about to become a threat. Kenny's heart sinks, his hopes of ever being with Kyle following. This is a contest, and he isn't sure he can win it.

Suddenly the bell rings shrilly across the halls- the late bell, Kenny realizes. Shit- he's late for class. Pushing his distressing thoughts away, he holds onto the straps of his backpack and begins to sprint to his third period class: P.E.

-

Kenny has always liked P.E.- mainly because he can see Kyle with barely any clothes on. Today he finds another reason to like it; Stan isn't in it. Because he's on the football team, he doesn't need to. The only downside Kenny can see is that Cartman shares the class as well. But that could work two ways- Kyle's pretty hot when he's angry.

They're currently in the locker room, and Kenny's trying his best to be discreet in watching Kyle undress out of the corner of his eye. Watching with his eyes is so much better than with his mind. At least no one who might notice would think anything of him always having his head turned that way; Cartman is on his other side.

He keeps his eyes carefully fixed just to the right of Kyle, taking his shirt off and exchanging it for his dull red P.E. one. He completely stops his movement, however, as Kyle raises his arms and pulls his own shirt off. Kenny stares openly, completely mesmerized, as he stretches his arms up, exposing his smooth, creamy skin to the chilled air, his jeans lowering slightly to show just a little bit more of the tantalizing skin. He feels his cock twitch under his clothing and tries desperately to quell the growing feeling before it becomes noticeable. He's vaguely aware that he shouldn't be staring this long, but he can't tear his eyes away, completely lost in his fantasies.

"Kenny, you fag!" He completely tenses at the voice, body going rigid as he turns stiffly to be met with the accusing stare of Eric Cartman. "You stole my shirt, didn't you, poor boy? Just couldn't afford your own, huh?" Kenny sighs and relaxes, too relieved to be annoyed by the retard's stupidity. The other snatches his shirt out of his hands, which succeeds in sparking his anger.

"Hey! Give it back, fatass! It's not _my_ fault you were a fucktard and lost your shirt; besides, there's no way mine will fit you!" Cartman glares at him.

"Shut up, poor boy! I did _not_ lose my shirt! Now give me back mine, and I'll give you yours, you sneaky little thief. You're no better than a Jew." He sneers the last word, and Kyle automatically looks up angrily, eyes flashing.

"Hey! You shut the fuck up about Jews, fatass!"

"You shut the fuck up about my weight, Jew!"

Kenny sighs as he listens offhandedly to the traditional argument unfold between the two sworn enemies. It's now practically custom for the two to do this. Every day, the same exact argument. He notices that Cartman's dropped his shirt to point an accusing finger in Kyle's face and leans down to pick it up and slip it over his thin frame. He can't help being so skinny- aside from naturally having a slim build, he isn't very well fed. It isn't just that his family never gets food; whenever he _does_ get food, he just has little desire to eat. He knows it's strange, but he has simply grown accustomed to the gnawing pain in his stomach, and it physically bothers him when the feeling isn't present. He's never told anyone, though, so they all think it's just simple malnutrition.

When Kenny's mind returns to the present, Kyle and Cartman are still yelling at each other.

"I'll bet _you_ stole my shirt, huh, you stupid Jew? Thought you were being sneaky- well you're just a bad sneaky Jew ninja, Kahl! I swear to god, there's nothing worse than a Jew." Kyle is just about to respond hotly when Kenny intervenes.

"Just leave him alone, Cartman. No one stole your shirt, it's probably somewhere in the rolls of your fat on your stomach or something." Kyle snorts and Cartman's eyes flash.

"Shut up, poor boy! I know all about your sneaky conniving plots with the Jewrat. I know you two are in cahoots- the poor boy and the Jew." The last word curls off his tongue in an angry sneer. Kenny decides that maybe Cartman needs a therapist for anger management or something. Kyle rolls his eyes in exasperation as Kenny sighs.

"Whatever, fatass. Come on, Kyle, let's go. Kenny yawns the last words lazily, as if he doesn't care at all for the frustration pouring from Cartman. Kyle gives one last triumphant glare to Cartman before lifting his head and strutting off with Kenny. Once they leave the locker room his posture returns to normal and his eyes glint in the fresh sunlight. He lets out an exasperated sigh of frustration and throws his gaze up to the sky, clenching his fingers into fists.

"That fucking fatass! He's so immature! It's been _ten years_ now, can't he just let it go?" he rants to Kenny. Kenny just walks silently alongside Kyle, listening to every passionate word spewed furiously from the other's mouth. "I mean, that stupid, immature fucktard! Some day he's gonna fall on that fucking fat ass of his and break his arm or leg or something and I'll laugh. He'll get it so hard..." He goes off into a vengeful mumbling of what he's going to do to Cartman if he says _one_ more thing about Jews... Kenny sighs.

"Some people just never change," he answers, musing and pondering and poking at the thought. Kyle just grumbles something unintelligible back and continues to mutter death sentences to Eric Cartman under his breath.

People do change, Kenny thinks. The world around them shapes them, pushes them, pulls them, and once they're through they're never in the same place or position they started out in. An earthquake could shake them, throw them to the earth, so that they have to get back up again by themselves. And then they're different. They know what it feels like to be down. They know how hard it is to pull themselves back up. And they change.

But people are different. They don't all get that earthquake at the same time. The people who have experienced the change know what it's like, and go on through life knowing, and watching others around them who don't know, waiting for them to be enlightened. They watch and wait, suspenseful, like in a movie theater waiting for the guy to make his move and just kiss the girl, waiting forever until it happens. And then the watching and the waiting gets passed on to the newly changed ones.

And then there are the others. The changed watch and wait for them, but it never happens. They sit hunched over, squatting down over their gardens, rocking back on their heels, waiting for the seeds to sprout, and they never do. Their earthquake never hits, they never get that _change._ They stay standing in that same place, in that same position, withstanding the pushes and pulls of the world around them, perhaps too afraid to take that step? That _change_. The song never reaches their ears, that taste never passes their lips, that sight never captures their eyes. That touch is never caressed by their fingertips.

Cartman is one of those, Kenny thinks. Cartman will never change. He doesn't tell Kyle this, however.

He's pulled out of his thoughts when he and Kyle reach the basketball courts, where the class is gathered. Truthfully, Kenny doesn't really care about P.E. at all. He's one of those that the teacher hates and is always yelling at and forced to run extra laps. But he doesn't care. He does anything he's told to with ease- sometimes not at all. Kyle, of course, abhors his behavior and constantly lectures him about it. Each time Kenny just rolls his eyes in good nature and tells him, "Kyle, you need to learn the difference between what's important and what's not. Real life is important. Fat hypocrites trying to get you to stay fit are not."

As they reach the white numbers painted messily on the blacktop, Kenny tries to think of something to say to break the silence. Kyle has ceased his vengeful mumbling about Cartman and is now staring listlessly off at nothing. Watching the glow of the sun reflecting off his face, Kenny is struck by how soft and pretty it makes him look. His red curls shine brightly and frame his face perfectly, contrasting so nicely with his brilliant green eyes. An abundance of freckles stands out against his pale, ceramic skin, peppering his nose and cheekbones. And Kenny wants so badly to just reach out and touch him, to caress those fiery locks, twist them delicately between his fingers, to graze his fingertips across the creamy skin of his cheekbones, leaving a red flush in their wake. He feels his insides flutter and his face heat mildly. He ducks his head, hanging his hair in front of his face, hoping to hide his blush from Kyle. Just as he thinks that, he hears said boy's voice.

"What are you doing?" Kenny's face flushes even more and he rakes his fingers through his limply hanging blond hair.

"Nothing," he lies. Where's the P.E. teacher?

"Everybody on their numbers!" Oh. That's where.

"See ya," Kenny waves, heading for his number, keeping his gaze focused intently on the gritty black asphalt beneath his feet. It practically _is_ directly beneath his feet, with shoes like his. Or his stupid lack of shoes, goddammit. He needs new ones. He really should be saving up for that instead of spending everything he gets on porn. Seriously, maybe Kyle's right about his apparent lack of a sense for what's important and what's not.

Kenny's number is twenty-nine, a few rows from Kyle's. Luckily for him and his weird fetish for Kyle's undying pissy-ness around Fatass, Cartman sits right behind said pissy boy. Cartman, of course, loves to set aside all of his time to bother Kyle in any way he can think of, which, especially when the class is receiving some sort of fitness lecture from the teacher, can become pretty creative, depending on the level of desperate boredom rising within the fat fuck. Sometimes it can actually be something admittedly funny, making Kenny snicker under his breath. Yes, some people never change.

Today is evidently going to be one of those days. The teacher begins to ramble on and on about the rules of basketball and how he's going to modify them, and penalties, blah blah blah. Kenny rolls his eyes in annoyance and boredom and diverts his attention to Cartman to see what he's doing.

Fatass looks about as bored ans Kenny is, but increased hundredfold. His head rests in his hands propped up on elbows and knees. Kenny can see him throw his eyes to the clouds, his lips forming the words, "Oh my _god_," in exasperation. His gaze finds the back of Kyle's head and focuses, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. This is the part where he thinks up what he's going to do; he's completely ignoring the teacher by now and wouldn't be able to repeat what's being said to save his fat racist ass. Which is fine. As long as he's actually _attending_ the class, he's okay. Maybe he can drop a hundredth of a pound.

Cartman grins sadistically and looks around at the ground, reaching down to obtain a small black pebble chipped off of the blacktop. He turns back to face front, brings his arm up to his chest, closes and eye, sticks his tongue out to the side a bit, takes aim, and chucks it at the back of Kyle's head.

Oh wow. Genius, Cartman. This should be in the news. Well, Kenny wouldn't be too surprised if it was, but still. Come _on_.

Then Kenny sees that the pebble, being so small and light, has landed in Kyle's haphazard curls and stuck. Upon contact Kyle whipped his head around to glare at Cartman, who's shrugging with raised eyebrows in the most sickening, pathetic attempt at ignorant innocence Kenny thinks he's ever seen in his whole life. Goddamn, Cartman, you suck.

Kyle rolls his eyes irately and mutters something as he turns back to face forward, and Cartman's eyes narrow angrily. He searches the ground surrounding him and again comes up with a small black shard of asphalt. He aims, fires, and snickers loudly when, like the first, it sticks in the redhead's hair. Kyle reaches back to smack Cartman's knee, oblivious to the sudden ailments to his otherwise perfect hair. Kenny snorts and Cartman looks over at him, grinning maniacally. Suddenly the teacher clears his throat, quickly getting both of their attentions.

"McCormick; since I can see you are _so_ very interested in my explaining of the rules of our next sport to you, so that you will know what to do, why don't you give me a summary of those rules exactly as I have stated?"

Kenny swallows with mortified dread sinking. "Uh. You... dribble the ball... and then you shoot." He points to one of the basketball hoops. "At the hoop." Various people break out in quiet laughter and Kenny hopes his face isn't reddening again. The heat has just left his face, and he doesn't want that to go to waste.

"Nice try, but no," the teacher answers curtly. "Now I know it's hard to keep your eyes off of Mr. Cartman, but could you at least _try_ to focus on me and what I'm saying, so that you might have just a _slight_ chance at raising your grade from its usual F?"

The whole class laughs, along with Cartman's yell of, "Ay!" and Kenny smiles. His P.E. teacher is alright.

The teacher continues to explain just a few more things before putting them in teams and sending them off to their games. Lucky Kenny gets Cartman on his team, but they're playing against Kyle's, so.

It's a half-court game; not that Kenny _cares_ or anything. Cartman approaches him, snorting like he's shaved the president's eyebrow or something.

"K-Kenny, they're still there- Kahl's such a loser, his Jewfro is so big a fucking _boulder_ would stick!" He bursts into maniacal laughter and Kenny rolls his eyes. Kyle doesn't even _have_ a Jewfro anymore. It's just curly, and incredibly attractive- but that's just Kenny's opinion. He walks over to Kyle, leaving the stupid fat asshole to himself.

"Ay! Where're you going? Seriously, Kenny, don't _tell_ him!"

Kenny ignores him, rolling his eyes again, and continues towards Kyle.

"Hey," he greets once he does. Kyle raises his eyebrows in acknowledgment and Kenny makes a motion with his index finger. "Turn around for a sec."

"Why?" Kyle asks suspiciously. Kenny just shakes his head and takes hold of Kyle's shoulders, spinning him around promptly and reaching up to pull the black pebbles out of his hair. Kyle turns back slightly and Kenny holds up the evidence with a raised eyebrow.

"Fatass threw these at you earlier," he states, watching the other darken in anger, a flare raising in his eyes.

"Fucking asshole," he mutters. "I _swear_, one day..."

"You know, if you just ignored him, he would probably leave you alone," Kenny suggests.

"Yeah, or he'll explode and do something totally insane." Kenny laughs and shakes his head, mostly because that's true. Apparently Kyle's stuck with the racist bastard forever.

"Whatever, dude. Looks like the game's starting."

Kenny actually likes basketball, somewhat, so he contributes to his team, even though they immediately start losing. Cartman is completely useless. All he does is stand off to the side, laugh every once in a while, and shout things like, "Haha, Kahl, Jews can't play basketball!" every time Kyle misses or gets the ball stolen from him. It's clearly driving Kyle insane, which both annoys and benefits Kenny. Him and his stupid fetishes.

At one point the teacher yells at Cartman to get up and do something. Muttering, "Goddammit," he lumbers over to the game and starts walking around in the direction the ball is moving to make it look like he's involved. After a bit of this the ball actually flies over to him and he catches it. Kenny tries to get open so he doesn't fuck up the already fucked up game, but Kyle gets in front of him and starts blocking him.

"Dude," Kenny complains in his ear, but Kyle ignores him. "Seriously, Kyle, move. You guys are winning by like, thirty anyway. Gimme a chance." Kyle turns his head back to look at Kenny out the corner of his eye, scowling indignantly.

"No, you're retarded. If you wanna win, then-" Suddenly the ball comes flying out of nowhere and hits the side of Kyle's face full force.

"Fuck!" he shrieks angrily as he stumbles back into Kenny, clutching his face, sending both of them crashing to the ground. Kenny can hear Cartman's sadistic, hysterical laughter ringing out, but he's much more preoccupied with the way Kyle's lying on top of him. His face heats once again and he knows he's blushing madly, incredibly grateful he's already flushed from playing basketball. He scrambles to get out from under the other boy, and Kyle rolls off of him, pushing himself up easily and glaring furiously at the offender.

"Goddammit, Cartman!" he shrieks shrilly, his cheek already reddened darkly from the impact of the ball. "If you weren't so goddamn fat I swear I'd be beating the shit out of you right now, but I can't, because I'd probably be absorbed!"

"I'm not fat!" Cartman argues back. He probably didn't even understand the insult. Kenny realizes he's still on the ground and gets up, looking around for the forgotten basketball, trying to cover up how flustered he is. He sees it rolled into the grass off to the side and goes after it. He still can't get over the fact that Kyle was _on top of him_. He feels _so_ stupid, but oh _god_. He hopes his flush is gone as he retreats back to his team.

Kyle and Cartman are still going at it when he gets back. He rolls his eyes.

"Hey! Shut up, you guys- Kyle; Cartman's an asshole, yes, we _know_. Just fucking _ignore_ him. And Cartman, leave Kyle the fuck alone. I'm pretty sure he's aware of the fact that he's Jewish, you don't need to remind him every two fucking seconds. _God_." Seriously, it's getting old. If Cartman could just shut up for _five minutes_...

Kenny sighs. "Okay, that was foul on Cartman, so here, Kyle." Man, he did good for a flustered loser. He hands the ball to the redhead, biting his lip somewhat nervously, secretly feeling proud of himself. Kyle meets his eyes and takes it, keeping their gazes locked for just a second longer before heading to the top of the court.

The game resumes, but Kenny isn't nearly as involved as he was. Every time he gets the ball, Kyle is there to block him. Well, the result is always Kyle ending up stealing it from him, which is totally unfair, but whatever. It's hard to focus with him around, because Kenny's thoughts are so distracted by his hormones and feelings. Goddammit, he's a mess.

Finally the teacher calls the class back in, asks who won each game, and sends them all back to the locker rooms. Finally. His team was starting to get kind of pissed at him for randomly starting to miss shots and passes and shit. He was kind of hoping to fade into the background of the game like one of those antisocials who don't want to lose their reputations, but the first half of the game pretty much marked him as the best player on the team and consequently the one to pass to. When in doubt, throw the ball at Kenny. Yep. Well that sucks. Oh well, his team can fend for themselves. Besides, like he can help it. It's not like he can just get over it. He's gay for Kyle (secretly, of course) and Kyle just happens to fall on top of him. They can't seriously expect him to just go on playing like nothing ever happened? Yeah. He didn't think so. Stupid conformist assholes. Jesus Christ, now he sounds like one of those goth kids. But it's true. He guesses they do have some kind of truth to base everything off of. Even if they're all fags...

He feels a hand catch his shoulder just as he's heading into the locker room and is consequently jerked out of his rambling thoughts. He turns to face the offender curiously and, of course, finds none other than Kyle. The redhead center of Kenny's attention is biting his lip awkwardly and speaks quietly.

"Dude, you looked pissed." Kenny shrugs.

"A little. So?" Kyle looks down.

"Look, I'm sorry for being annoying. I know I should be working on controlling my temper more and ignoring Cartman, but I guess I'm kind of bad at that." He meets Kenny's gaze again and laughs nervously. Kenny returns it.

"It's not a big deal- it was mainly Cartman who was pissing me off. I mean, he started it."

"I guess." It's silent. Kenny scratches the back of his head, about to suggest they go into the locker room when Kyle speaks again, even more quietly. "Hey, thanks for cutting in like that and sticking up for me. It might not seem like it, but I really do appreciate it." he smiles softly at the ground and his shoes, still biting his lip, and Kenny feels slightly guilty for chewing him out earlier about his yelling at Cartman.

"N-no problem, dude," Kenny stammers, face hearing just slightly. It seems to be doing that a lot lately. Kyle nods and turns to gaze off in the distance, maybe at nowhere, maybe at the snow-capped mountains. He stares off at his dreaming place with unfocused gaze for a few moments before pulling his head back to look at the door to the locker room.

"We should go," he murmurs softly, almost as if musing the thought. Kenny shakes himself from his own inner-musings to agree.

"Yeah, I bet Cartman's finished changing by now," he cracks weakly. He mentally slaps himself for being so lame. Seriously, that sucked. But Kyle just laughs lightly and concurs, starting inside. Kenny follows him almost nervously, as if unsure whether he's allowed to.

The sounds of yelling teenaged boys and lockers slamming shut totally ruins the deep moment for Kenny, especially considering the condom packet that's just flown past his face. At least it wasn't a used tampon. He rolls his eyes and proceeds to his locker, ignoring it and turning his thoughts back to the preceding events.

What was that moment right there? Was it simply a thank you from Kyle, or was it more than that? Sure, it _felt_ special to Kenny, like they'd formed some kind of- oh, bond, or something, but is that meant to be?

Suddenly Kenny remembers Stan's earlier words, and his throat runs dry. Of course he wants to get closer to Kyle, repair the steadily growing tear in their friendship formed by god knows what, but he is admittedly slightly frightened of what Stan might do.

Over the years, Stan has continued playing football while everyone else dropped out at middle school, and has turned out to be pretty strong, having a sturdy, muscular form. Kenny doesn't know what happened- Stan used to be such a nice kid; a stereotypical boy (referring to a lack of some sensitivity), yes, but a good kid. He's grown up into, well, a stereotypical jock. Popularity has gotten to him, and he's turned into an asshole. Now, that's not to say that Kenny hasn't still seen that good kid in him come out sometimes, because he has. It's mostly around Kyle or Wendy (mostly Kyle of late), but not usually anyone he doesn't know really well. Certainly not Kenny, but he has seen it enough to know that hey, okay, Stan still has some good in him. He's not always an insensitive, selfish asshole who revels in dirty jokes and harsh pranks and late night parties. He isn't always an arrogant fool who will end up fucking up his life in the end. Sometimes he can be sweet.

Apparently not to Kenny, though.

He thinks about it- Stan said he likes Kyle? It doesn't seem much like it. Kenny's seen Kyle all over Stan, where Stan only shows signs of platonic best friend affection and nothing more. Could he be lying? He just can't tell. Kenny doesn't really trust his judgements and observations, mainly because they're his, but somewhere in his gut is a certain feeling that Stan was lying. It's disconcerting. He dismisses it.

But still, in the back of his mind it festers, just waiting to be noticed, when it's too late to turn anything back. The mere concept of that brewing storm is enough to stress him out, and he sighs in irritation. Damn, he needs a smoke.

-

_Okay so I changed it because I don't have names for the chapters and I really hate it when the prologue is the first little bit and then the numbers are off and on the little navigation thing is like two and the chapter name is like one and it's all ggaaayyyy so that's why I put chapter one with the prologue. c: In case you were wondering. Oh, also I changed it to present tense. Yeah. Because this thing has changed tenses and point of view SO much and I've finally diecided, third person, present tense. What it originally was. And besides, third person, Third Wheel, get it? lol, I just now noticed that. See, it was meant to be. 3_

_So anyway, that being said, OH MY GOD THIS TOOK FREAKING FOEVER. I HATE TYPING STUFF UP FROM NOTEBOOKS. I think that's why I like my other stories so much, because I type them instead of write them, you know? Yeah. Typing from traditional paper sucks. That's why this took so long ssooobb ;-;_

_And I originally hated this, but I just reread it and fixed it up a bit and now I kind of like it. Just, Kenny and Stan are SO out of character to me and I HATE it because Kenny's a loser and Stan's a jerk, but that's how the story was when the ideas beat me up with it and that's how it's meant to be. I like Kenny in my other story. Go read that one, it's called Electronic Confession lol. I hate that title, because it's SOSOSOSOSOOOOO lame. Maybe I'll change it if I think of something better. idk, my brain power is kind of sucked out right now._

_Holy crap, why do I write such long notes? Dude, that's depressing. I'm gonna shut up now, please review and I'll reply with a hug. I promise. (are hugs O or X? lol I'm pretty sure O) Kay so I'll try to update soon, but keep in mind that reviews do kind of spur me on. heheh._


	2. 02

_GODFUCKINGDAMMIT_

_Sorry, my parents put these STUPID blocks on the computer and they waste all my time by blocking out RANDOM pages of the internet, for NO REASON and every time I have to get my mom to unblock the page and she's always like IS THERE MATURE CONTENT ON THAT PAGE HUH HUH IS THERE HUH and I'm like NO JUST UNBLOCK THE DAMN PAGE ALREADY_

_EVERY TIME GODDAMMIT._

_Anyway, here's chapter two. sorry for the HUGE delay, it seriously shouldn't have been that long. Big Time Rush, yanno? Got to me. BAD. Enjoy._

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.2.

Kenny decides to skip fourth; Stan's in there, and he doesn't really want to take the risk of another confrontation. Besides, he hates Chemistry. It's like his two worst subjects combined: math and science. Not that he's really that much better in English or History, either. He just kind of can't stand chemistry. He feels kind of bad about constantly cutting that class, though, because his lab partner is Token, and it sucks that he always has to do things on his own. Token's pretty smart, however, so Kenny's sure he's able to manage without his help (or lack thereof). Besides, Kenny's pretty sure he pisses Token off most of the time, so this shouldn't really be that big a deal.

Because he's such a notorious sneak, Kenny doesn't carry his own cigarettes around school. When he wants to smoke he has to get resources from none other than the goth kids. He gets along pretty well with them; they don't mind him because apparently his being poor isn't so "conformist." They hate it when he talks about Kyle, though; they say relationships are the worst. The most conformist thing ever to happen. Kenny knows they'll keep his secret, though. Gossip is also conformist.

"Hey guys," Kenny greets as he rounds the corner to the back of the school, A.K.A. their hideout. Everyone knows they hang out back here. People just tend to... leave them be. Ignore their existence. Stay the hell away. Whatever term is preferred.

"Hey, Ken," Henrietta states dully in her voice devoid of all happiness and anything of the sort; basically everything the goths stand for. Nope, definitely not a conformist voice. "Need a cig?"

"Yeah," Kenny affirms, trying to ignore her attempt at "nonconformist terms." That's a downside on these guys; they prefer to keep their language devoid of modern terms because everyone uses them, therefore making them (you guessed it) conformist. Kenny swears, that word comes up at least ten times a minute in conversation with them. Nicknames are also avoided, though Kenny doesn't see how 'Ken' is that much better than 'Kenny.' Then they go and call him "Noncon" as their little joke. They told him it means 'nonconformist,' but Kenny knows it's because of his tendency to take advantage of people by the persuasive means of seduction. Well, he doesn't do it all that often, just sometimes when he really needs to. Like for money. And not hormones. Ever.

"So how are things going with your little boyfriend?" Ethan sneers. He's the most put-off by Kenny's ways of "letting himself get sucked into society's love lies." Kenny colors and takes the cigarette Henrietta offers him.

"They're not. And since when did you care?"

"He doesn't." Blood speaks up. By now Kenny has no idea of Blood's real name. He's taken the whole goth thing so seriously that he won't even acknowledge his birth name anymore. He even moved out of his parents' house last year to live with Henrietta. And Kenny's _so_ conformist with _his_ relationships. Cough.

"It was mockery," Georgie cuts in, taking a drag on his own cigarette. That's just wrong; the kid's still in middle school. But apparently that's exactly his point. Whatever, as if Kenny cares. He frowns.

"Whatever," he mumbles, lifting the white cylinder to his lips and inhaling the smoke.

"Really, what's got you so down as to come out back begging for cigarettes?" Henrietta presses. As the only girl in the group, she has most of the "soft side." Not to say that she's soft. At all. She's just the most understanding out of all of them. Which isn't saying much, but at least it's there, under layers and layers of thick black eyeshadow and black lace dresses and crosses and pain and suffering. A self-pity group, that's what they are.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Kenny murmurs, exhaling the silky gray as he speaks, the thin trails of smoke tumbling from his lips and rising in the cold air. He sighs the rest of it out and speaks as the silence remains. "Stan found out about my oh so conformist crush on Kyle."

"Ooh, tough," Ethan comments snidely. "Looks like the super best fags beat you to the mark." Kenny frowns.

"Hey, I said he found out, not that he went off and stole Kyle for himself. Besides, who says Stan's even gay?" Okay, wow, that was a stupid ting to say. Blood lets out a short bark of laughter as Henrietta rolls her eyes in exasperation.

"E-ver-y-one knows Stan's gay," he remarks, drawing out the first word into syllables. "He's the only one who doesn't."

"Yeah, well," Kenny huffs, slightly embarrassed, "I think he does, because he told me to stay the fuck away from Kyle. And he implied that Kyle doesn't even like me."

"That guy's such a fag," Blood snorts, chuckling quietly to himself. Kenny furrows his eyebrows and takes another drag.

"Whatever, you guys are the ones who wanted to know; I didn't ask for all your insults."

"The world is pain," Georgie comments out of nowhere. That kid is so strange; almost everything he says is a random goth doctrine or whatever (not that it's actually doctrine, that would be _conformist_) that has no relevance to the conversation whatsoever. And Kenny's the only one who doesn't understand what he means, unlike the rest of the goth kids.

"Georgie's right," Henrietta agrees, lifting her own cigarette to her lips as she speaks. "You know, we did tell you that love is lies force-fed on us by the government to keep us in check, but you just had to go on and let them lead you on. Conforming to it isn't going to make it real."

"Yeah," the rest all agree simultaneously.

"Why don't you just go home and cry to your mommy about it? I'm sure _she'll_ give you some love," Blood adds. The thing about Blood is that he sees the whole world as a joke, as dark humor. He laughs at the irony of everything and is amused by the pain of others. He's pretty morbid compared to the rest; he'll watch someone get mauled by a bear and smile. Kenny prefers to keep his distance.

"Can we shut up about my problems now?" Kenny seethes. "I came back here to relax, not get ridiculed." He sighs in frustration and sinks back against the cold gray brick wall.

"There is no happiness."

"That's nice, Georgie."

...

After a joy-filled forty-five minutes with the four happiest people on Earth, Kenny is slowly making his way to the tree on the northeast corner of the school campus. He's not overexcited to be spending the time alone, especially since he won't be eating, but it's better than hanging around places Stan will be. Kenny's decided that the small happiness he can gain by being near Kyle is outweighed by the prospect of Stan being _right there_ watching him. Staring at him with those scrutinizing eyes, that cold, threatening gaze. Drilling right into him, tearing the security from his heart. It would defeat the purpose of everything, and so Kenny decides that he's going to be as far away from that as he can.

It doesn't change the fact that the northeast corner will make him travel right through the football field, a place Stan on occasion will hang out. Kenny hopes to God that today is not one of those days, but maybe God doesn't really like him all that much, because Stan is actually kind of right there. And Kenny must've done something especially horrible to his older brother last night, because right on cue Stan's head turns and those drilling eyes lock on him. Kenny can see him preparing to open fire, cursing himself and homosexuality and super best friends and God. Well, that last one was not the way to go, because Stan starts heading right over. Goddammit.

Well maybe he can pretend he doesn't see him. Maybe he can just look the other way and keep walking and Stan will just give up and go back to his football buddies. The thing about Stan, though, is that he doesn't get on well with being ignored. Kenny winces as he hears his name called out in the familiar voice and stops in his tracks, shoulders tense, and spins around to face the one person he really doesn't want to see. Honestly, he'd rather spend the day with Cartman than have this conversation. Or whatever Stan is catching up to him for. Putting on a bright smile, he holds his arms out as if to embrace and calls in an overly excited voice, "Stan!" Stan's reaction is an unimpressed sort of glare and Kenny lowers his arms, holding onto his fake smile as Stan approaches, coming up the grassy hill towards him. "Stan, my man, what's up?"

"Enough," Stan huffs apathetically as soon as he's in range of speaking without having to yell. Kenny bites his lip, hoping he won't have reason to stop smiling. Maybe Stan's here to apologize, say that he overreacted and that Kenny can definitely make friends with Kyle.

Maybe he's here to say he changed his mind and that he's gonna tell the whole school about his crush, especially Kyle. Kenny really hopes that's not the case. Stan comes right up and stops in front of him, crossing his arms and breathing a little heavily from the strain of climbing the semi-steep hill. Poor kid and his asthma, following him all the way up to senior year.

"Kyle told me about P.E." Kenny drops the smile and hopes he doesn't look like a deer in headlights. Wow, what a way to start off the conversation. Really? When did Kyle have time to tell him? He doesn't have Chemistry with them, and Stan was just hanging out around the football field and not Kyle, correct?

"When?" Kenny asks in interest, trying to keep his voice from quavering the way Stan would love to hear. The intimidation is stifling, and Kenny really wants a way out, but the way Stan's eyes are just pinning him there, holding him to the spot, is really unavoidable, and makes it about ten times harder to cope with. Stan rolls his head over his neck in response to Kenny's question, tilting back and showing the underside of his jaw as he regards Kenny out the bottom of his vision. Kenny feels trapped. He swallows.

"I caught him in the middle of fourth. We were both wandering the halls. We got talking and he told me everything. How you blew up when Cartman threw the ball in his face, how you defended him, how you apologized later for snapping at him..." Stan picks at a hangnail in intense interest, glancing nonchalantly up at Kenny, who's staring back in something close to horror. "He thought it was weird, Kenny. Said you're not usually like that around him. So timid, caring... or so he told." The glimmer in his eye turns deadly sharp as he lowers his hands and stares straight at Kenny, piercing him. Kenny almost winces and takes a step back at the utter intensity he finds there. It's warning, it's threat.

"He's beginning to suspect, Kenny. He's going to find out if you're not careful. Your whole world could fall apart." He speaks lightly, airily, chin raising ever so slightly, but his words hold such deadweight that Kenny feels he'll sink to the bottom of the ocean and be crushed by the pressure. Everything is casual about Stan, except for the overwhelming stare he has locked around him. "You know what I suggest? What could put you back in your place, all safe and cuddly cozy?"

Kenny doesn't answer. Stan leans in close, threatening, jaw jutting out with the heavy pull of his words, and Kenny stills, going completely rigid in the suspense and pressure. "I think you should back off. Stay away, keep your goddamn distance, and act as if Kyle is not the best thing that's ever happened to you, because if you don't, I'll make sure he'll have been the worst thing that's ever happened to you."

Something hard raises in Kenny's throat, like a lump, and Kenny swallows deeply, trying to beat it down, with no results. Stan backs away, having effectively gotten the message across, casting one last threatening glare in Kenny's direction before turning on his heel and heading back down to the football field.

Kenny remains frozen, shocked and scared, trying to ignore the racing panic shooting through his veins, infiltrating him and filling him up in occupied spaces so he'll explode. The strain, he can feel it pulling at the edges of his brain, hooked into the flaps of skin, stretching them out until they tear at the seams, leaving him exposed for everyone to see. He doesn't want that, no. He wants closure, security, safety. He wants a hollow in which he can curl up and hide from everything, keeping the burning life of his secret safe. Its pulsing rays are now in danger, and he's so afraid it'll just burst and spread like a fatal disease, going on and on until nowhere is safe, until his hollow is stormed and burnt to the ground. No, no, he doesn't want that, not at all. But his secret light is a time bomb, see, ready to explode and expose itself to the world anyhow, so is anything really safe? Really?

No.

So it's a risk factor, whatever he does. He could keep it bottled up until the insane pressure just bursts forth, releasing everything he's fought so hard to keep to himself, or he could swallow down the fear and take a chance, see if he can make it all work out in the end. Everything does, right? At times, no, but other times, yes. Maybe this could be one of those other times. Maybe it could be a miracle of sorts, or something along the lines of that. Maybe this could work.

It's hard. So, so hard. He supposes he knew this day would come eventually, right? He wasn't going to sit back and wait forever, right? He needed this push forward, this exposition. And now that he has it, he's going to take it by the reins and ride it to all ends of the universe, see where he stops. Sure, he has the means of control, and he'll try to steer it into the direction he thinks he wants, but in all reality, he's just not so sure he'll make it. Aim for the moon; if you miss, at least you'll hit the stars. Something like that, right?

God, this is not going to be easy.

* * *

_Alright, here we go. This chapter took so long because when I finally got my butt down to write it, it became the goths, and I have absolutely NO idea how to write them, so please excuse my epic failure. This is probably going to be the only chapter featuring them, just because I have no confidence in my ability to write them, and I swear the word conformis comes up in there like fifty times and I'm sorry for being so redundant in that respect. But now that I go back and look at it, I put WAY too much background on them to ONLY have them in one chapter, so they might just pop in every now and then. Unless you all hate them, because then I'm just completely done with them. Also I had no idea of their names, only vague ideas from other things I've read, and I guess I kind of stole Blood, but I have absolutely no idea what his real name is so I just used that. And I THINK the kid's name is Georgie, I'm not even close to positive, so don't judge me._

_ALSO I'm really happy with those last two or three paragraphs or so. I was starting to think I was losing my ability to create obscure detail that means nothing, like in the first chapter, so I guess I'm pretty happy with that. PleasepleasePLEASE review, it would really really really really make me happy. Favorites are flattering, but it kind of makes me hate you when you take the time to read and like without taking the time to review. So PLEASE. I'm BEGGING you. DO NOT DENY ME SOB._


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